The Naked Edge by David Morrell Read Free Book Online Page B

Immediately, Cavanaugh shoved the gearshift into forward and pressed the accelerator. The rear wheels threw dirt toward the pursuing gunman, who fired at the Taurus's rear tires, the dust ruining his aim.
    But Cavanaugh knew that it wouldn't be long before the rear tires had bullet punctures, also. Already, the deflating front tires made his steering hard to control. The stress from the 180-degree turn had worsened their damage. As he sped from the trees and into the meadow, he felt the front wheels settle onto the plastic ring that he'd attached to the center of each rim, a tire within a tire. Without the cushion of the normal front tires, the Taurus jounced and slammed over holes in the lane.
    “We're all going to die!” William exclaimed.
    “Wrong!” Cavanaugh stared ahead through the shattered windshield and saw that the entire lodge was aflame. The dense smoke didn't rise. Instead, a breeze kept it low, carrying it in Cavanaugh's direction, and as he approached it, he shouted to William, “Hand me the rifle I gave you!”
    Reaching back, taking it, he told Jamie, “Switch places with Mrs. Patterson! Get ready to drive!”
    He steered to the left of the burning lodge and sped into the smoke, which was so thick that he couldn't see ahead of him.
    Jamie crawled over Mrs. Patterson, squeezing next to him.
    “Angelo, check your watch!” Cavanaugh yelled. “Tell Jamie when it's ninety seconds from now!”
    “What do you want me to do?” Jamie asked.
    “Drive forward until Angelo tells you it's time. Then drive back this way until you reach the smoke.”
    “Why? What are you going to—”
    “When you come back, stop just before you get to the smoke. I'll step out of it on your side. Be careful you don't shoot me.”
    Cavanaugh floored the brakes, the solid inner tires digging violently into the ground as the car stopped. He took a deep breath, shoved the door open, and lunged out into the smoke.
    Hearing the door bang shut behind him and the car speed forward, he ran to the left in the direction that the breeze took the smoke. Despite holding his breath, he had a desperate urge to cough, the smoke stinging his eyes. His nostrils and throat felt irritated.
    The air lightened, the smoke getting thinner. He saw an opening. Sunlight revealed the stream where it wound through the canyon. He rolled down its bank, feeling the impact of his armored vest against his ribs. At the smoke-free bottom of the streambed, he took a deep breath, feeling cool sweet air fill his lungs.
    Rising to a crouch, he hurried along the stream until the smoke was behind him. Then he crept up to the rim. Peering carefully across the meadow, he scanned the pines and aspens. The smoke behind him prevented the silhouette of his head from showing as he aimed toward the trees.
    He remembered the Condition Yellow operators he'd seen at the gas station where he'd stopped on the way home.
    Why? I'm not in the game any longer. Why am I suddenly a target?
    This much, he did know. If this was the same group, there were ten of them. He'd taken a count while he stood at the pump. Plus, there was the sniper on the eastern ridge. And no doubt a spotter for the sniper. Twelve.
    Behind him, the burning lodge roared and crackled. Inside it, something heavy collapsed, rumbling like an explosion.
    Twelve , he repeated to himself.
    Well, let's see if we can lower the odds.
    Hearing the Taurus speed toward the northern part of the canyon, Cavanaugh estimated that the car would have emerged from the smoke by now. The men in the woods on this side of the valley would chase it.
    With the Taurus gaining distance from them, they'll choose the easy route and run through the grass next to the trees.
    And here they come , he thought as he squinted to the south, toward the gunman who'd been in the lane. The man raced into view, sprinting next to the trees, pursuing the Taurus.
    Cavanaugh sighted along the AR-15, squeezed the trigger, and blew a hole in the man's throat. The